


The Stag and The Storm Queen

by CeridwenofWales



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Child Death, F/M, Forced Marriage, Hate to Love, Internal Conflict, Miscarriage, Past Character Death, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 20:10:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeridwenofWales/pseuds/CeridwenofWales
Summary: I have been fascinated by Orys and Argella for a long time but only now I decided to write about them.In this piece, Orys and Argella are married for some months but he spent most of his time serving as Aegon's Hand in Aegonfort. Upon his return, he realizes it takes more than a decree to make Storm's End his home.





	The Stag and The Storm Queen

**Author's Note:**

> For a few days it was feared that Storm’s End might suffer the same fate as Harrenhal, for Argilac’s daughter Argella barred her gates at the approach of Orys Baratheon and the Targaryen host, and declared herself the Storm Queen. Rather than bend the knee, the defenders of Storm’s End would die to the last man, she promised when Queen Rhaenys flew Meraxes into the castle to parley. “You may take my castle, but you will win only bones and blood and ashes,” she announced … but the soldiers of the garrison proved less eager to die. That night they raised a peace banner, threw open the castle gate, and delivered Lady Argella gagged, chained, and naked to the camp of Orys Baratheon.
> 
> It is said that Baratheon unchained her with his own hands, wrapped his cloak around her, poured her wine, and spoke to her gently, telling her of her father’s courage and the manner of his death. And afterward, to honor the fallen king, he took the arms and words of the Durrandon for his own. The crowned stag became his sigil, Storm’s End became his seat, and Lady Argella his wife. They would go on to have several children, each inheriting the black hair of their parents and the famous deep blue eyes of the Durrandon. — [ The World of Ice and Fire ](https://books.google.com.br/books?id=hapdAAAAQBAJ&pg=PP6&dq=the+world+of+ice+and+fire&hl=pt-BR&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjtvbrV0cTiAhXhIrkGHRLACiUQ6AEILzAB#v=onepage&q=argella&f=false)

 

 

 

During the days he rode back to Storm's End, Orys imagined Argella's belly would be rounded and swollen when she welcomed him home. He was sure his seed had taken hold inside her when he departed to serve his King after no more than a month as her husband. But he was wrong in more ways than one for Argella’s waist was as thin as when she was delivered to his camp _gagged_ ,  _chained_ , and  _naked_ in what seemed like a different lifetime.

 

He was wrong in more ways than one.

 

Orys could feel he was more an intruder than a husband whose regress was longed for by the way Argella gazed at him through narrowed eyes, chin raised in silent defiance. His presence was more akin to a burden than comfort after the months away.

 

He shifted closer, unsure about how he should greet the woman before him. A woman who was more a stranger than a wife.

 

“My lady.” He bowed and waited. He would always wait for her to make the first move.

 

“My lord,” She nodded, “I hope your journey has been pleasant,” Argella added with a smile.

 

He could tell she was amused he traveled by land instead of sailing to Storm’s End. Orys could see it in her eyes. More than just amused. In fact, Argella looked satisfied, as if he had proven something to her, something she had always assumed about him, something to his great discredit that she was glad to discover to be true. ** _Your true nature is bare before me, Orys_** , he imagined her thinking. **_I see you for the great coward and pretender that you are, that you always have been and always will be._**

 

How ironic that the Lord of Storm’s End was afraid of the thunder and rain. A man that couldn’t command the Storm he claimed to be Lord of. The Storm was hers and so was the fury. Orys couldn’t risk being at her mercy because he doubted she would be forgiving if given the opportunity to avenge the deaths of her father and the Queen she would have been.

 

He was secretly relieved being Aegon’s Hand required his presence in Aegonfort because more unnerving than the blue eyes following his every move were the waves crashing against the rocks below and the wind whistling in the air surrounding the cliff.

 

Being there made it easy to believe the sea god and the goddess of the wind were still grieving the loss of their daughter, Elenei to the mortal Durran and seeking revenge. Maybe Argilac was haunting those walls, and cursing Orys for thinking himself worthy of marrying his daughter with as much wrath as Elenei's parents destroyed the six castles the first Storm King built.

 

 _Impossible!_ That was his castle. Aegon's decree had made it so. Orys couldn’t allow guilt to make him doubt his valor or believe in myths.

 

“Will you be staying long this time, my lord?” He had forgotten how melodious her voice was.

 

_I will stay as long as I wish. This is my castle and so are you._

“I haven’t decided yet.”

 

“Welcome home then, my lord.” Argella said, with her diplomatic-sounding words that often felt sharper than his Valyrian sword. Words that were her only armor against the unfairness of her situation.

Home seemed a foreigner word. A bastard belonged to no one and nowhere. The comfortable atmosphere when Orys was among Aegon and his sister-wives could never be mistaken for a feeling of belonging. They were not one and the same. Orys could never claim Fire and Blood as his words or the dragon as his sigil.

Could this castle and this land that seemed to relish in openly defying him ever be home? There were no heavy clouds in the sky and the sun was shining brightly when he left Aegonfort, but it had started raining heavily once he set foot in the Stormlands. Could this woman as cold and merciless as the land she ruled in his name ever be his wife in more than words?

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She ordered him a bath and Orys imagined that if there were love between them, Argella would be the one rubbing his back instead of the serving girl she sent to the chamber.

_The lady of a castle bears more important responsibilities than rubbing the back of her husband._ Orys considered, scolding himself for still thinking as a simple man.

 

“What happened during my absence, girl?” He asked suddenly, startling the maiden who was pouring water over his back.

 

“Nothing, my lord.” She stammered and Orys was almost ashamed for involving others in his problems with Argella. But the sensation faded as soon as he noticed the urgency with which the servant girl tried to excuse herself and get away, “I must help in the kitchen, my lord.”

 

“You’re dismissed.”

  

 

* * *

 

 

 

They sat across the table from each other, staring but not seeing. Orys was trying to conceal the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as Argella informed him of everything that happened in Storm’s End during his absence. Even though his eyes were focused on her moving lips, her words were not reaching his ears. Argella was astute and noticed he was not listening.

 

“You must be exhausted from the journey and here I am troubling you with tedious matters,” Argella reached for her goblet of wine.

 

“You never trouble me, sweet wife,” Orys smiled, making her frown.

 

“Always the chivalrous man, but I’m not sweet, my lord.” Argella brought the goblet to her lips, emptying it in one gulp.

 

“You’re sweeter than you want to believe, my lady.” Orys tilted his head, smiling at her. She placed the goblet on the table with as much gentleness she could feign but he saw the way her chest moved as she took a deep, ragged breathing.

 

“How long are you staying this time, Lord Orys?” There it was, the bitterness he had been waiting to hear.

 

“If I didn’t know better, I would say my presence disturbs you, wife.”

 

“Do you?”

 

“Do I what?”

 

“Do you know better?”

 

“Then tell me what I’m ignorant about,” Orys rose from his seat, walking to her.

 

“I’ve informed you of everything you needed to know,” her lips trembled when he placed his hand over hers, “If you excuse me…” Argella recoiled her hand from his grasp, standing.

 

“I’m sorry if I offended you, Argella,”

 

“You must be longing for rest, my lord.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“What have you done?” Orys stormed into her bedchamber, shouting.

 

“You must be more specific, Lord Orys.” Argella remained in her seat, not even bothering to turn to face him.

 

_His is the fury at last._

“Don’t mock me, woman.” Orys kept his hands firmly by his side, nails clawing at his own flesh.

 

 _That’s the only explanation for keeping the truth from me._ The thought she hated him to that extent made his stomach clench.

 

“I wouldn’t dare.” His wrath made him deaf to the trembling tone of her voice and blind to the object in her hands. He walked to her in long strides and Argella stood from her chair.

 

“And yet it’s exactly what you did. Do you think I would never know what you did? That you could hide this from me?”

 

“Will you beat me now? Am I, at last, worthy to be considered your enemy like my father was?”

 

Shame was like a merciless fist around his throat as he saw the tears that were running down her cheeks.

 

“I suppose someone told you about the baby I had to bury while you were away serving _your_ King.” She glared at him, snapping out her words between clenched teeth. His gaze fell to her hands and Orys gasped, noticing she was holding a small blanket. Stags’ heads _embroidered_  with  _golden thread_.

 

“It was my right…” Orys whispered as his anger faded away.

 

“Another of your many rights I suppose,” Argella raised her eyebrows, “What would you do if I had sent a raven to Aegonfort, good lord Orys?” Argella shifted closer to him, jaw twitching as she stared at her husband.

 

Orys didn’t know if he couldn’t find the words to answer her because of the intensity of her scrutiny or for some other obscure reason.

 

“Tell me, Lord Orys. What would you do if you knew your seed had been stripped from my womb before it could bloom?”

 

Orys felt cold sweat running down his forehead at the image of Argella’s face twisting in pain as she bled out the life he had put in her.

 

“Would you have abandoned your Dragon King to be with me? Why would you do that?”

 

Orys gulped audibly, taken aback by the hideous truth of her words.

 

“Would you have returned sooner to fill me once more?” Orys groaned at her coarse words and Argella smirked with mischief.

 

“Oh, no! The good and merciful Lord Orys is not used to that crass language. The honorable Lord Orys would have liked to be informed so maybe his King could arrange an annulment for his barren marriage and seek a blushing bride to replace me.”

 

While her claims made him uncomfortable, Orys had to admit she knew how Aegon’s mind worked.

 

“Do you think I wanted that to happen? Do you think I killed our child? Why would I do that?”

 

Orys lifted his hand to her face but stopped, noticing she flinched.

 

_To kill my line as I did when I slew your father._

Argella pressed her finger to his chest, “You were not here when blood ran down my legs and I prayed to the Mother for mercy. You were enjoying your freedom with your precious King while I felt my last hope gushing out of me. It was like being chained once more.”

 

A strangled sob escaped through his quivering lips and while, this time, Argella had no pleasure in his pain, she wouldn't spare him the weigh of knowing much of her pain was his fault.

 

“I couldn’t even grieve this new loss because I had to dispense justice in _your_ name as a mere Lady of Storm’s End and not the Queen I was raised to be.”

 

“Would you have faced the wrath of the sea and the wind to be by side if you had known? I suppose it would be another thing I should be grateful to you for.”

 

“There is still a war raging in the realm…” He stammered,

 

“Do you think I wanted or needed you here? Do you think I wanted to see the pity in your eyes?”

 

His pity enraged her. Some would say his pity also saved her. Even when Argella didn’t know if she wanted to live in this new world Orys was helping Aegon and his sisters to build.

 

**_The stag shall be crowned._ **

The woods witch’s words had given her hope and a reason to endure the touch of the same hands that slew her father. Her avenger would emerge from her womb. From her blood, a Storm King would be reborn.

 

This hope seemed so distant and unreal now. Life was not a song and she felt disappointed on herself for putting faith in a senile woman’s prophecy.

 

She hadn’t cried when he wrapped his cloak around her shivering, exposed body. She hadn’t wept saying the vows that would bind her to him for eternity nor did she cry on their wedding night, when his hands had touched her, making Argella feel things she thought impossible laying with an enemy.

 

Argella had been fighting back the tears for so long and delaying her grief; she didn’t want him to see her so weak, so defeated, but now it seemed all the tears she held back were coming forth as implacable waves that threatened to drown her.

 

Her sobs were like those of a wounded animal, punching and ripping through her muscles and bones. The more she tried to inhale and regain her composure, more ruthlessly her body trembled.

 

“Go!” Argella turned her back to him, and, for the first time, he was not confused at what her words truly meant. That was not a command. It was a desperate pledge.

 

Orys cautiously shifted closer, wrapping his arms around her and expecting Argella to squirm as she always did whenever he tried to demonstrate the slightest sign of affection. He sighed relieved when she didn’t and leaned down to inhale the sweet fragrance of her hair.

 

She let him turn her body to look at her face. Orys wiped away her tears with his thumb and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, as her father had done so many times when she was a little girl.

 

"I don't need you here," Argella said, her voice muffled as she pressed her face against his chest.

 

“I know,” Orys smiled, resting his chin on her silky hair.

**Author's Note:**

> [Orys Baratheon](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Orys_Baratheon), also known as Orys One-Hand, was the founder of House Baratheon and was the first Lord of Storm's End after House Durrandon. During the Wars of Conquest, he slew the last Storm King, Argilac the Arrogant, married his daughter Argella, and became the first Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. Orys is also considered the first Hand of the King, serving Aegon the Conqueror.
> 
> Famed for his prowess at arms, he was believed to be the bastard brother of Aegon I, though these rumors were never proven. He distinguished himself fighting for House Targaryen during Aegon's Conquest, the First Dornish War, and the Vulture Hunt.
> 
> Princess [Argella Durrandon](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Argella_Durrandon) was the daughter and only child of Argilac the Arrogant, the last Storm King. After her father was killed in Aegon's Conquest, she married Orys Baratheon, the first Lord of Storm's End, founding the new House Baratheon.
> 
> At the approach of Orys Baratheon and the Targaryen host, Argella barred the gates of Storm's End and declared herself Storm Queen. When Queen Rhaenys flew Meraxes into the castle to parley, Argella announced that the defenders of Storm's End would die to the last man: **"You may take my castle, but you will win only bones and blood and ashes."**  
>  However, her garrison refused to share the fate of Harrenhal and revolted, raising a peace banner and delivering Argella to Orys's camp, gagged, chained, and naked. Orys, however, removed the chains with his own hands, wrapped his cloak around her, and gave her food and wine. He spoke to her gently, telling her of her father Argilac's courage in death.
> 
> Aegon rewarded Orys Baratheon with Storm's End, the rule of the Stormlands, and Argella. On his marriage to Argella Durrandon, and to honor Argilac's valor, Orys Baratheon adopted the sigil and words of House Durrandon as his own.
> 
> Argella and Orys had at least one son, Davos Baratheon.
> 
> [Elenei](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Elenei) is said to have been the daughter of the sea god and the goddess of the wind. According to legend, she married [Durran Godsgrief](https://awoiaf.westeros.org/index.php/Durran_Godsgrief), the first Storm King.
> 
> According to legend, in the Age of Heroes, the first Storm King, Durran Godsgrief, won the love of fair Elenei. She gave her maidenhead to him, committing herself to a mortal life. Her divine parents forbade their love, but Durran and Elenei wed despite them. The gods' wrath was terrible to behold, destroying Durran's keep on his wedding night, killing all his family and guests. Elenei protected Durran from the storm, however. Enraged, Durran declared war on the gods, who replied by hammering his kingdom with massive storms. Each time Durran built a castle to face the sea, the gods destroyed it.
> 
> Refusing to return Elenei to the sea, King Durran persisted building larger and more powerful fortifications, until finally, the seventh castle stayed in place and resisted the storms of Shipbreaker Bay. Some believe this is because the children of the forest took a hand in its construction; others believe that a young boy who grew up to be Bran the Builder advised Durran on its construction. The truth of the matter is unknown.


End file.
